A weathered old man sits in front of a camera upon an infirmary cot. His head is propped up by several pillows, clearly unable to support the weight of his own experiences. His eyes are glazed and his lips are pursed in bitter acceptance of his oncoming death. A male nurse steps into frame briefly, giving the man a drink of water before disappearing. A slow heavy blink from the old man as he gathers his thoughts. His lips then part, giving voice to his troubles:

“January 11, 2058. Marcus Raymond Olyphant. 74. Chief of security at Altrua Laboratories from 2007 to 2016. That was the year, 2016. When the world was crippled. Not by nuclear weapons, climate change, or a solar flare. The gaping wound on our world and our lives was caused by the seed of Prunus serrulata, the cherry blossom. A single seed aboard the International Space Station, having orbited the Earth more than four thousand times, was returned and planted in fertile Japanese soil. To all involved in the experiment’s surprise, the sapling the cherry stone bore had bloomed… Six years early.

We weren’t positive on what happened between then and the onset of the outbreak. Some said it was cosmic radiation. Others believed that extraterrestrials, in a joint project with our governments had tinkered with the genetic makeup of things. From what our doctors could gather, it was some kind of weaponized toxoplasmosa. The same parasite known to cause miscarriage in pregnant women, and to cause rats to kill themselves had now been found in extremely advanced stages within the human body. It was all linked to that damned cherry blossom seed. Something about the way it was affected in space.

Now, the first symptoms were those of the flu, though they quickly subsided in days only to be replaced by a crazed, fearless sense of invulnerability. Sure, for a few days our soldiers fought like sung and storied heroes on the battlefield. But the aggressions against one another became just as bad, as a rabid fury began to dwell inside them, often taking the lives of one another in frenzied, primate-like brawls of claw and tooth.

Somehow it had even entered the private sector. Good natured folks were arrested for brutally murdering their family, or found dead after jumping off of a bridge or building.  We didn’t know then, that these deaths were exactly what [i]it[/i] wanted.

It was only when  someone lay dead, that the true nature of this new “Omegaplasmosis”  became clear: We were puppets.  Our sole purpose in their lifecycle was to end our lives and those of others to give them the means to spread and repeat the cycle. The corpses of those who had fallen ill rose again, even despite grievous injury. Their eyes lacked anything human however, and the first attacks made it very clear that we were no longer the apex predator. Feral, with intense strength and endurance, they would kill those in close proximity to them. Within a week, those killed by the original vector would rise as well, slower and with less capacity, but just as deadly if given the chance.”

The tape ends just as the sound of gunfire erupts in the background.

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This time, this isn’t a story about the dead. It’s about the living and how they begin to rebuild their existence even after what many thought was their extinction event. In particular, this is a story about one particular group of the living, those known as Peace Keepers.

The US government, previously shamed into silence during the majority of the outbreak, came forward quite unexpectedly with a vaccine. Though it was far too late to repair the damage done, it was successful in not only preventing further infection, but also curing the infected that still lived. The mandatory vaccinations were initially administered by the military. Large FEMA camps formed with heavy military presence as the thousands left flocked to them in hopes of both safety and food. Any who entered were forced to be vaccinated, lest they be turned away.

Not long after the camps formed, organized military began to grow and reform. Aside from government funded troops, private militaries and militias also became a prominent sight patrolling the streets. Dispatching the remaining undead on the surface of the nation took only sixteen months. The worst was over, and the world began to recover.

However, the government’s attention was drawn to the rest of the world, where some countries without proper resources still suffered. As it was, the US military was divided heavily throughout the rest of the planet. Now, the private militaries were in control of a large portion of North and South America, working under federal governments as if they were enlisted soldiers.

The year is 2058, and PMC’s heavily police the safe zones. Walled cities and fortresses are the only place where survival is guaranteed. Heavily fortified checkpoints mark all major roads. Bands of raiders and marauders roam this new wild West. The only defense for those outside of the safe zones are the Peace Keepers.

In 2056, while the undead still ruled the streets, Boyd Devereaux III  became the first Peace Keeper. Armed only with simple weapons and determination, he began cleansing the streets of Nashville, Tennessee. Slowly but surely, his determination became that of others’. His numbers grew and before long the Peace Keepers were the closest thing to an answer the world would see. Now two years later, with the human race slowly recovering, Peace Keeper can refer to anyone and not just those who fought alongside Boyd Devereaux. Anyone willing to cleanse the world of the undead and restore humanity to its former glory can call themselves such. Care must be taken however, as many who traveled under the honored name of Peace Keeper fell victim to base greed and wanton, devolving into nothing more than raiders.

Any job that the PMC’s deem too risky, the Peace Keepers are more than willing to take. The Peace keepers, or Peacers as they’re sometimes referred to, are at the bottom of the pyramid and yet their numbers are the fewest. This is due mostly to the fact that they live off the grid, following only the laws that their morals deem necessary.  

Peacers can be contracted for any number of things, from escorting water shipments, to delving deep into the depths of buildings to eradicate the few undead scourge that remain. Each Peacer’s motivations are their own, whether that be valuables or otherwise.

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Points of Interest:

-Money can only be used at Government or PMC outposts/checkpoints. Keep that in mind if you choose to take money as payment for your deeds.

-Peace Keepers do not have to give up their weapons at checkpoints, though they must still pass a medical exam and be searched.

-Peace Keepers do not have to enforce the law if they do not wish to. They do not have the same status as military and do not have to be obeyed by civilians either.

-Much of the Americas are still recovering, with only about 10-15% restored and operable. This means that power, water, and other conveniences are largely missing.

-The most common form of trade Is simple bartering. Shanty towns and markets can be found here and there, though the militias that guard them are nowhere near as trustworthy as PMC or government troops.

-“Dark zones” refer to any area without policing by a militia/PMC/Peacers, any area without electricity, or even areas controlled by raider or marauder groups.

-Urban exploration and scavenging are encouraged, but these activities are risky in dark zones.

-What remains of the undead consists of vectors and infected. Vectors are fast, violent, and intent on spreading the Omegaplasmosis. Infected are slow, shambling “zombies” and are much less quick to agitate. The ratio of vectors to infected is about 1 to 10.

-Despite the fact that the vaccine is administered freely by the government, PMC’s and other groups will often sell it for a very high markup. The scarcity of government installations makes this a viable source of income.

(Please feel free to bring up anything else that needs to be addressed. Due credit will be given!)